Seahorse
by Le Fez-Wearing Husky
Summary: Following a sudden attack from an unknown assailant, Mikado is left hospitalised. But when Masaomi is finally able to meet him again, he quickly realises that life would never be the same again for either him or Mikado. Without the present, how can there be a future? (Mikida one-shot)


**Yup, this is yet another story in celebration of one of my numerous OTPs, this time featuring Mikida. However, it's a little different from my other outlandish AUs and elaborate twists; this time, for once, the story is set in the canon universe.**

 **Well, it's still technically an AU of sorts; it doesn't really take place in any particular time period, and the canonical timeline has been changed slightly (and by that I mean there have been a fair few omissions of major plot points). But it's possibly the most realistic story I've ever wrote, which is definitely saying something for someone who usually has their head too submerged in an alternate sci-fi dimension to take much notice of reality.**

 **Anyway, I'll quit the prattle. This story is fairly tame by my standards, but it's rated T, mainly for the obvious: swearing, violence, etc. There are mentions of grievous bodily injury as well, and the story itself isn't exactly the happiest ever. Just a few things to bear in mind.**

 **I'll let you figure the rest out for yourself. But if anyone manages to guess correctly the meaning behind the title, then I will positively shower them with virtual cookies.**

 **As usual, reviews and critical acclaim are very, very welcome.~**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

 _A clock would have you believe that time is cyclic._

 _Going round and round in a perfect circle, never pausing, never ceasing. Past, present and future seamlessly linked together._

Kida Masaomi stared at the clock mounted on the wall of the hospital waiting room. It was a metallic hue, set in a thick, steel case with equally thick oblong hands and large, squat numbers labelled at intervals around the circumference. Not that Masaomi noticed any of these details; he stared at the clock without truly registering its presence.

He didn't even know why he was staring at the clock. He had no need to; his phone could tell him the current time perfectly well. He stared at it for no reason other than the fact that it was the only thing in the waiting room worth staring at.

He was the sole person in the waiting room. Earlier, Masaomi had been able to entertain himself by flirting with a pretty young woman whom he had had the fortune to sit next to. But the entire exchange had lasted barely five minutes before she had been called in for whatever appointment she had been waiting for. And he hadn't even had the time to remark on how erotically cute the peculiar angle of her glasses was. A little like Sonohara Anri's, in fact.

But since she had left, the dark green hue of the padded seats had somehow shifted into a more eerie spectrum. The waiting room seemed vast and cold, more akin to a barren wasteland, now that Masaomi was its only occupant.

The ticking of the clock didn't exactly help matters. Masaomi attempted to ignore it, but the noise infiltrated his ears in the same way that it had conquered the entire room, as though beating every particle in the area into submission, forcing it to broadcast its wavelength.

Tick. Tick.

 _Bang! Bang!_

Masaomi shuddered.

After listening to that noise for so long, it sounded almost like…

Masaomi grasped his blond locks so tightly he pulled at his scalp. He could feel bile rising in his throat as he remembered just why exactly he was here. And at the same time, he remembered just why he _didn't want_ to be here.

The innate instinct to run away was twitching the muscles of his legs. _But I can't. Not this time… This time, I've gone over and beyond the point of no return…_

He clenched his hands into fists, imagining that he was wringing the figurative neck of the voice that always sounded to counter his reasoning, to tell him: _It'd be easier, you know. If you just ran away. If you left without looking back. You'd never have to know._

Although he could argue with it, nothing could possibly silence that voice.

"Kida Masaomi to see Ryuugamine Mikado?" another voice, one from outside his own brain, inquired.

Said blond glanced up queasily. His golden eyes wobbled over the form of a tall brown-haired woman in a doctor's uniform.

"Y-yeah. That's me." Masaomi had to force the words through his lips. He stumbled over to the doctor, trying to maintain his shaky smile.

 _This is it._

He would finally find out what had become of Mikado within these past three months. Masaomi had of course heard many rumours, as per the usual. Nothing could happen in Ikebukuro without wild theories being cooked up and tossed around on the Internet. They were only possibilities. But of course, that also meant that they were each equally truthful.

One of the most widespread rumours was that Mikado was in a catatonic state. Others suggested that he may have amnesia. Practically all sources, however, said that he had undergone brain surgery to remove the two bullets that had been fired into his head. Masaomi could only assume that there must be a member of the Dollars at this very hospital in order for that to be the case.

 _But which rumours are true? What will I see when I enter that room? A brainless husk strapped to a life-support machine? Will he even remember me?_

He tried, and failed, to stop his hands from shaking as the doctor led him down a labyrinthine series of corridors, each of them plastered in the same inert white; ceiling, walls and floor. The colour was so flat and blank it was disorienting. Masaomi could only just distinguish up and down; he wondered how the doctor could possibly navigate a place with such constant scenery.

The doctor suddenly veered off course, pushing through a set of double doors. The ward beyond was as eerily silent as the waiting room. The doctor explained casually that the patients were currently having their lunch break, and so had vacated the ward.

She stopped short of a small door set into a wall roughly in the centre of the ward. Twisting the handle, she opened the door and stood aside to allow Masaomi to pass in before her.

Masaomi maintained his rigid smile as he thanked the doctor, but he sensed that she could see through it easily. Her eyebrows furrowed and her forehead creased, just slightly.

The blond's heart thudded as he approached the hospital bed. A pair of legs were all that was visible at first; or rather, the impressions of legs in the folds of the duvet. He stepped forward hesitantly, resisting the urge to turn around or close his eyes. Hands, arms, abdomen and torso…

Masaomi paused. There was no sign of anything too horrific yet, but he had an unabatable feeling that the worst was still yet to come.

Without moving, he tilted his head apprehensively forward so that he could see the hospitalised boy's full body.

To his surprise, Mikado looked just like that – Mikado. He had just the right amount of colour in his cheeks; his blue-grey eyes were wide open and fixed on the view outside the room's window. An empty food tray, the crockery and utensils neatly stacked, lay on a shelf just adjacent to his bedside. He didn't look like a kid who'd been shot in the head three months ago, nor did he look like a kid who'd had to have undergone brain surgery for it. In fact, the only evidence for that were the two incisions in the back of his head, which were only just visible beneath the thick stubble of his regrowing hair.

Masaomi attempted to talk, but the boy's name somehow couldn't get past his tongue. He swallowed, but his throat only felt drier.

He stood there like that for what, to Masaomi, seemed an indeterminable amount of time. He froze in place when Mikado's eyes suddenly turned on him.

As the bluish orbs clashed with his own, Masaomi could immediately tell from the glint of familiarity in those irises that Mikado knew who he was.

"Kida-kun?" he muttered, sounding surprised.

Masaomi blinked. _"Kida-kun"? He hasn't called me that in months…_ He supposed that was the first sign that something was definitely not right about this boy despite his otherwise healthy appearance.

"Uh, yeah?" he mumbled stupidly.

"It's great to see you, but… why are you here…?" Mikado glanced around somewhat detachedly. "Where is this…?" He focused back on the scene outside his window; of tall buildings and bustling urban roads.

"Ikebukuro…"

"Huh?"

"In Tokyo."

"…Ah." Mikado turned back to Masaomi with a confused smile. The sight crushed the blond in an instant.

Amnesia. It had to be.

Masaomi felt a sudden pressure on his shoulder. Glancing up, he saw it was the doctor.

"You must be very familiar with him," she murmured. "You're the first person he's recognised since he woke up."

"W-well… we've been friends since childhood," Masaomi answered. He deliberately didn't mention the more recent developments in their relationship.

"Well, that would be it," the doctor sighed, removing her hand. "You see, the bullets themselves had stopped at his skull, but some of the shrapnel had been driven further in. In the end we had to remove some of his brain mass from each side in order to get it all out. Luckily, we didn't cause any more damage than had already been dealt. I actually think it's a miracle that the damage was so confined to one area."

 _This… this isn't a miracle._ Masaomi couldn't tear his eyes away from Mikado's dumbfounded gaze.

"He hasn't just lost his memory," the doctor continued, "as in… he hasn't just lost some of the memories he already has. He also has severe anterograde amnesia… That means he can't form any new long-term memories. He forgets things pretty much as soon as he's told them."

Masaomi didn't want to believe it. "Could… could you leave me alone with him for a moment?"

"O-oh, yes, of course. I'll be just outside, so call me if there is a problem." With that, she briskly left the room.

As the door clacked shut, Masaomi simultaneously slid into the nearest chair, defeated.

He couldn't look at Mikado.

 _This is all my fault._

If he had just… If he had just…

 _It's like how it was with Saki… Actually, no, it isn't._

Saki had had a broken leg. Not a pleasant experience but still possible to recover from.

There was no way Mikado could ever recover from his condition.

 _All I had to do…_

He could've pushed Mikado out of the way. He could've yelled at him to duck. He could've confronted the gunner himself; it was obvious that Mikado had been his only target, seeing the way he ran after the deed had been committed. He could've done any number of things. But he _hadn't._

And why? Why?! There was _no_ reason. As soon as he had set eyes on that balaclava-covered face, he'd been rooted to the spot. He couldn't move, or talk. He could only watch as Mikado's suddenly limp body collapsed to the ground. All the while, Saki's screams relayed in his head, past merging with the present.

It was as that worm Izaya had said: _"The past will only be too eager to chase after you."_ In that moment, it was as though his past had pounced on him and pinned him down.

He'd been equally useless after the attack. He couldn't think to dial an ambulance or call anyone who'd be willing to help transport Mikado to hospital. He could only think to hold the unconscious body of his boyfriend with shaky hands until the Black Bike appeared seemingly out of nowhere and offered to help.

For a month he'd attempted to find the bastard who'd done it. He hadn't cared what motive he'd had; the Dollars had far too many enemies to keep track of anyway. He'd simply wanted the assassin to die in the most painful way possible.

But he soon realised revenge would simply be inaction masquerading as action. There would be no point.

He couldn't fix Mikado.

 _This was exactly why I didn't want him to go down that route. I didn't want him following in my footsteps. I knew it could only end in pain. But I did a great job stopping him, didn't I?_

 _I should've done more…_

"Kida-kun… why are you crying?"

Masaomi suddenly snapped out of his stupor. He looked up through suddenly blurry vision at eyes wide with concern.

He wiped his eyes furiously and looked down again.

"Are you okay… Kida-kun?"

When Masaomi still didn't answer, Mikado leant back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Um… am I in hospital…?" he wondered.

Masaomi had previously thought that the forgetful characters that appeared in children's sitcoms were adorable and hilarious.

But this situation was neither of those things.

"Mikado… what year is it?" he asked by way of experimentation.

"Hm? Did you forget?" Mikado chuckled.

Masaomi met his boyfriend's laughing smile. The irony of the situation made him want to hurl things like Shizuo.

"It's 2009," Mikado told him.

Masaomi sighed. Well, that was just as he thought.

He bit his lip before asking his next question. Well… it wasn't a question per se. But nevertheless he still didn't really want to know the answer.

The blond gingerly moved his chair towards Mikado's bedside. He reached up to cup the other boy's cheek.

The Dollars' former leader blinked as though the hand had electrostatically shocked him. "Kida… kun?" he questioned.

He might've said more; his lips were still moving when Masaomi cut him off using the pressure of his own. It was a brief kiss; nothing deep or passionate that he and Mikado had more recently graduated to (that was, before the attack). And yet, when Masaomi pulled back, the dark-haired teen was a bright shade of pink and his eyes were blinking furiously in surprise. Masaomi instantly knew that, as far as Mikado was concerned, that had been his first kiss; let alone his first kiss from another male.

"Uhhhhmmhh…" he gibbered. "I… um… er…" He turned awkwardly away from Masaomi. "I-if I'm dreaming, pinch me," he mumbled, unconvinced.

Silence passed for several moments as Masaomi simply sat there, fighting to keep the heartbreak from showing on his face.

"Mikado," Masaomi muttered.

"Kida-kun?" the other boy answered once again. That nonplussed smile was once again on his face. "Did… did something happen?

"No. Why do you think that?"

"I don't… really know. You just… You look a little… miserable, Kida-kun. Is something wrong?" Mikado asked again.

"Ha ha ha!" Masaomi erupted into laughter. "No way! You know me, Mikado, there's never anything wrong with me! I'm never down! Unless, of course, I happen to get dumped by a beautiful girl. But that's fine! Anyone would be down in that situation. Otherwise, that's just heartless!"

His sudden raucous outburst lapsed into a deep sigh of remembrance. Months before, he and Saki had been going through a rather rocky period in their relationship. Her attitude towards him had somehow, suddenly, changed. Most likely, Izaya was behind this sudden change in behaviour, but at the time, Masaomi had been too profoundly angry about it to possibly think straight. And so they had broken apart.

At that time, he'd been buried in guilt, drowning in remorse and, above all, he had been hopelessly confused. It had all happened so quickly and suddenly.

But there had been one constant throughout that entire situation; Mikado. It was just as it had been when he had first moved to Ikebukuro: Mikado had acted like a warm, comforting blanket. Not able to actually cure or take away the pain completely, but able to lessen it so that it was at least bearable.

But Masaomi became increasingly aware that the events were taking a rather different route than before. Although they had previously hung out as a trio along with Anri, more and more often, it happened that he and Mikado were walking the streets as a pair. It had happened without them noticing; it was only once, during an evening meal at Russia Sushi, Karisawa had noticed them and cooed, "Oh, are you two dating?" that it dawned on them.

Although dismissed as a joke at the time, Mikado had, soon after that, seriously suggested that there could've actually been some truth to that observation. And it had all kind of just led on from there.

Getting over Saki had been relatively easy after that.

 _But as far as Mikado's concerned, all that never happened._

 _And even if I tell him that story again, he'd forget it immediately anyway…_

For a few moments Masaomi merely stared at Mikado, his mouth twisted in a pathetic smile. He could barely stand it, looking into those blue-grey pools of puzzled innocence. Those same eyes had watched an urban legend in action. They had experienced the surreal, relentless, shady lifestyle that was typical of the citizens of Ikebukuro. They had seen things beyond all imagination.

And yet they didn't know it.

A hollow knock echoed through the room, the sound in its abruptness causing Masaomi to jump. "Hello?" the doctor called. "Is it alright if I come in yet?"

"Uh… c-could you give me a couple more minutes?" Masaomi stammered.

There was a pause. The blond waited in silence until the answer came; spoken evenly and yet undeniably reluctantly.

"All right. Five more minutes then."

Masaomi stared helplessly at Mikado.

What could he do?

He didn't want to leave Mikado here. What if his would-be killer came back to finish the job? It was surprising that he hadn't already attempted to do so during the past three months… Perhaps he had only wanted to incapacitate him? But no… If that were the case, he would've never aimed for the head.

The doctor was right. Mikado had survived at incredible odds. Whatever the reason, whether the perpetrator was biding his time or had left the scene entirely, the absence of an overt threat made Masaomi only all the more uncomfortable. And even if the attacker never showed up, who knew who else would? If word got out about Mikado's state… If some of Ikebukuro's less savoury characters realised just how lost and vulnerable he was…

Masaomi couldn't allow it. In fact, he realised, he would only ever feel comfortable if Mikado was right next to him.

 _I want to protect him. Even if I have to spend the rest of my life looking out for him._

This realisation came with such utterly unequivocal sincerity and passion that it drowned out any argument he could possibly conceive against it.

He leant forward towards the boy he loved and grasped his arm at the wrist. "Mikado," he whispered, "can you stand up?"

Mikado smiled as though that was a stupid question. "Of course, Kida-kun. I'm perfectly fine, no need to worry. Come to think…" His brow creased in anxious confusion. "Why am I in hospital? Kida-kun, do you know?"

"I don't," the blond admitted, swallowing thickly in preparation for what he was about to do, "but I'm going to get you out of here, okay?"

Masaomi pulled Mikado rather roughly out of his bed. Under different circumstances he may have been gentler, but his mind was filled with adrenalin and the feverish awareness that the doctor was still stood outside the door, impatiently waiting.

Mikado's hospital gown wasn't exactly the most inconspicuous outfit in the world, and on top of that, his face was relatively well-known amongst the population of Ikebukuro. Following this observation, Masaomi ripped off his hoodie and shoved it into Mikado's arms. "Put this on. Keep your hood up and your head down…" His sentence petered out. What was the point of telling him what to do if he couldn't even remember it for long enough to actually do it?

Not unsurprisingly, Mikado hesitated. "W-why…?"

"I'll tell you when we get there."

"Okay. But where are we going?"

"We're going home," Masaomi announced flatly.

"H-home? As in, my house…?"

"It doesn't matter, okay? Somewhere safe…" Masaomi glanced desperately at the door. Any minute now…

Mikado glanced down at the white hoodie in his arms that, according to his perception, had inexplicably appeared there. "Kida-kun, why is your hoodie –"

Masaomi almost slapped himself. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

He sighed. _Forgive me, Mikado._

He snatched his hoodie back from the boy before him, opened it out, and began shoving Mikado's arms into it. Ignoring his confused yelping, Masaomi zipped his friend into the garment and pulled the hood up over his head.

"Come on. We're going home," Masaomi told him, vainly hoping that repeating himself might have some sort of effect.

Masaomi gripped Mikado's hand in his clammy palm and hauled him over to the window. He took a second to reflect on how lucky he was that Mikado's room was on the ground level and had a human-sized window facing the outer courtyard before flinging open said window and vaulting over the sill into a flowerbed.

He span back to Mikado, who meekly followed, albeit not without being distracted in the process. He gazed with a kind of awed interest at the city around him as though he had never set eyes on a block of high-rise flats before.

"Come on!" Masaomi hissed insistently, yanking Mikado down from his awkward perch on the sill of the window. "We haven't got time."

Before Mikado had time to question his actions, the blond readjusted his grip on his hand and dashed across the grass of the courtyard, pounded along the tarmac of the car park and finally sprinted down the concrete of one of the city's innumerable stretches of pavement. They blitzed along at a ferocious speed; twin electrons sparking through the supernaturally-charged circuits of Ikebukuro.

Masaomi ignored the chilly wind as it snapped, frigid, at his sleeveless arms. Autumn was descending upon them.

The former gang leader was astonished at his luck when his own apartment complex hovered into view. Somehow, they'd managed to make it this far without running into anyone who knew either of them. Perhaps it had helped that Masaomi had taken a far less conspicuous route, navigating the alleyways and avoiding the typical haunts of Ikebukuro's not-quite ordinary youth; Russia Sushi and the like. But still, it was a first.

Masaomi pulled out his keys shakily. He was surprised to find how uncontrollably his body was shivering; a mixture of the cold and the adrenalin, he suspected.

Mikado peered into the gloomy passage that ran behind the complex. He moved towards it, intrigued, but the blond quickly snatched him back before he could wander out of reach.

"Stay close, alright?"

"O-o-okay."

As soon as he managed to prise open the lock, Masaomi swung the door inwards and quickly ushered Mikado in, out of sight and away from the cold.

As he shut the door, the resounding _click_ echoed through the empty hallway.

The blond took a moment to regain his breath. His entire body vibrated. His head buzzed.

He almost couldn't believe that he had done what he had just done. But he didn't dwell on it.

 _It's too late for doubts._

Instead, he watched Mikado.

The blue-eyed teenager stared around Masaomi's flat, which was admittedly rather sparse in its décor and, perhaps because of that, a little dreary. It was only slightly less run-down than Mikado's place.

Or should he say, Mikado's former place. The blond had no idea what kind of state it was in now, having been left uninhabited for over three months.

Still, it gave Masaomi some relief that this was genuinely Mikado's first time visiting his house, so he wasn't all too bothered about the fact that his friend was so unfamiliar with the place. He was never really sure why, but whenever the two of them met up it would always be at Mikado's house. Perhaps it was because it was just that little more inconspicuous; a lot less people hung around that area, after all.

Masaomi rubbed his right eye absentmindedly and unceremoniously plonked himself onto his bed. God, was he exhausted. Even though it had only just gone noon, his day had already been unnecessarily long and arduous. He let loose a grating yawn.

"Damnit," he muttered. "Mikado, aren't you even slightly tired?" He glanced over at his rather bemused-looking, albeit perky, boyfriend.

"No, not at all, Kida-kun," he answered brightly. "I hope you don't mind, but I do feel slightly hungry though."

Masaomi frowned. "Didn't you just have lunch at the hospital?" he blurted without thought.

Mikado appeared to ponder that for a moment. "What hospital? I'm afraid I don't remember any of that." He shrugged smilingly.

"That's fine," Masaomi sighed. "That doesn't matter anyway…" The last part of that speech was directed more at himself.

A sudden dull tremor thudded through the house, punctuated by a sudden "Ouch!"

Masaomi leapt into action faster than he could consciously follow. His eyes darted wildly around the room before coming to rest on Mikado's, which were suddenly inches away from his own. He then realised that he was gripping the boy tightly.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" he garbled, quickfire, as Mikado rubbed his forehead.

"No need to worry, Kida-kun. I only bumped my head… that's all."

Glancing to his left, Masaomi noticed that the offending object had been a low shelf, empty but for a thickening layer of dust and a rather dirty scrap of yellow fabric. He reluctantly let go of Mikado, wishing he could believe him. The kid had already been through too much… _far_ too much. The last thing he needed was another head injury.

"Hey, what's this?" Mikado reached out to pick up the yellow material and turned it over curiously in his hands. "Is this yours, Kida-kun?"

"Yeah…" Masaomi swallowed as he realised what the thing was. It was his yellow necktie, his trademark, a sign of authority as worn by the _shogun_ of the Yellow Scarves. There was still a faded bloodstain visible on the fabric, originating from his fight with Horada all those months ago. The bitter memory had dyed the necktie an ugly dark brown.

Mikado smiled in his innocent ignorance. "You always liked the colour yellow."

A sudden thought came to Masaomi, and he hesitated just for a moment before voicing it. "Say, Mikado… do you remember anything besides things to do with me?"

"H-hey!" Mikado looked up, face flushed. "That isn't a very funny joke, Kida-kun!"

Masaomi couldn't help but break into a smile, but it was momentary. "No, I'm asking you a serious question."

"Well, o-of course! I remember the town, I remember my parents. I remember that one time when you pulled that prank on Fujishima-sensei… you know, the one with the water bucket against the door… I… uh…" Mikado lapsed back into confusion.

"Do you remember the Dollars?"

Masaomi waited, but he knew the answer before he even posed the question.

"The what?"

Masaomi averted his eyes from Mikado. He grabbed the necktie off him and walked grimly back to his bedside, flinging the disgusting yellow thing into some obscure corner en route.

"It's nothing you need to concern yourself with." He patted the bed beside him without looking up. "Come on, sit down."

Mikado obliged. Masaomi immediately slung an arm around his back and pulled him in close. The blond felt the other boy tense slightly at the contact, but he quickly relaxed into it.

"I know you won't remember this… but I love you."

"L-love?" Masaomi could practically hear the blush in Mikado's voice. "In… in what way…?"

"In all ways," Masaomi murmured.

He felt a single hot tear slide down his cheek, shortly followed by another.

"Kida-kun, are you crying?"

"Why?" Masaomi laughed, almost spluttering. "Does it look like I am?"

The blond suddenly stood up. He trembled all over.

"I want nothing more than to kill that bastard right now. The one who did all this shit to you. I want to give him those two bullets right back and stick them in _his_ head. No… death isn't good enough for him. That'd be far too painless… All I want… All I want…!"

Masaomi collapsed, sobbing, to his knees.

"Kida-kun…"

Masaomi continued as though he hadn't heard Mikado.

"And now I'm going to have to spend my entire life like this. Hell, I'll never be able to catch a break. This is too much. This is too much. Fuck's sake, you've lost part of your goddamn _brain!_ You'll never be whole again! You'll never be able to…"

He stopped speaking. He couldn't say it; it was too painful even to comprehend.

His wish had come true; Mikado wasn't brain-dead, and he still remembered him… only, he didn't remember him in the way that Masaomi had wanted him to.

The blond stiffened as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Mikado had knelt beside him.

"You can… you can tell me anything, Kida-kun… if that would help you feel better." Masaomi found the hesitant awkwardness in Mikado's voice endearing, as he always did; yet simultaneously the words drove a honed spear through his gut.

Masaomi suddenly dove towards Mikado and buried his face in his shoulder. He wrapped himself tightly around the other boy, who at first hesitated, but then gently returned the gesture.

The blond wondered that if some dark unconscious corner of Mikado's broken brain, beyond the chasm that filled his damaged emptiness, still understood Masaomi's love for him.

Even if that were not true, the fact remained that Mikado was alive.

Mikado was in Masaomi's arms, and he was safe. For now, at least.

 _A clock would have you believe that time is cyclic._

 _Past, present and future, connected seamlessly with no discord._

 _But what if the connection between past and present were severed? What happened then?_

 _Without a present to be remembered, there was no future, but –_

 _Without a past to be remembered, there was nothing at all._


End file.
